I Dreamt About Boston

Author's note:
I am very concerned about the widespread violence that seems to be shaping our world.I guess that...
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Author's note: I am very concerned about the widespread violence that seems to be shaping our world.I guess that concern has inspired me to write. I hpe that by sharing our thoughs we can still curtail evil and help the preservation of the good.
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3

While I was brushing my teeth, I started thinking about this strange thing that had happened with me. I had dreamt about the terrorist bombing in Boston without knowing about it. How was that possible? I guess I did have some kind of a seventh sense; I could feel it when something good or bad was going to happen, I could sometimes tell you which song they’re going to play next on the radio or who’s the person coming just by hearing his footsteps… But nothing more. I found those things normal; I never paid any attention to them. I can’t predict the future. Because it’s impossible. I can’t have… I realized I sound just like Jay – searching for a logical explanation, trying to convince myself nothing extraordinary had happened. I felt like slapping my own face. ‘You can’t doubt in what you saw!’ I whisper to myself, thinking Jay would probably think I’ve gone mad if he hears me. I probably have.
I realize it is taking me way more time to brush my teeth than usual (just because I am thinking too much) and I go out of the bathroom quick. (Everyone knows I’m a perfectionist, though.) I dress up even quicker and return to the kitchen to see if Jay was ready. I hate being late for work. ‘We takin’ the bus?’ he says, looking absolutely ridiculous. He’s half dressed, wearing jeans and his new sunglasses which were just too expensive for me to accept, but he was still in the light blue T-shirt he’d slept with. And in his right hand was his coffee that was probably with too much milk and sugar. He’s always ruining it. Jay and his terrible taste. He looks so absurd, it makes me smile. He doesn’t notice, though.
Finally, I answer his question. ‘Sure…’ I hesitate. ‘Actually no.’
His expression now is rather confused. We always go to work together as he works in a building near the one I do, as a journalist. He was so smart, so good in his job, in what he was doing. He wrote the every-day news perfectly. A little red light in my head flashes. ‘He knows details about the bombing!’ I think to myself. This makes me feel excited. And frustrated. No, I can’t ask him. Yet. I need to be alone. I begin: ‘I’m gonna walk… You know, clear my mind. The weather’s fine, too.’ Not that the weather can be an excuse. ‘Cool.’ Jay responds, not looking happy with my decision. You could offend him so easily. Ah, how I hated the word “cool”. I bet he’s angry with me right now but I can’t bother discussing it. ‘Later, Jay. Don’t be mad at me.’ I try to sound sweet and girlie. He nods, still looking pissed off. I decide I’ll fix this later and I leave our house fast.